Poureth Some Sugar on Me
by Consulting-magic-dalek
Summary: The civil war rages in heaven with Castiel on the losing side; Sam's soul remains lost, growing more damaged by the second and Dean is haunted by the ghost of possible happiness. Deception and betrayal run through the veins of Team Free Will but intriguing events force the three together when they have never been further apart.
1. Chapter 1

Poureth Some Sugar on Me (In the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit)

**Author's Note: Special thanks to my beta Arial for her help! Be warned that I am a huge procrastinator and cannot guarantee any time scale. **

The delicate leaves of each tree fluttered in the breeze, filling the air with a symphony of rustling. The breeze was a matter of perception of course; there was no wind in heaven unless the perceiver willed it into existence, but Castiel preferred a hint of movement. This way it seemed as if he were back on Earth, rather than in the stoic, rigid uniformity of heaven. He'd only ever visited the sacred orchard at the centre of Heaven once before, and the first time there had been neither breeze nor movement. The orchard had appeared beautiful then, but now it seemed magnificent, filled with emotion and feeling beyond anything he had previously been able to comprehend, consigned to a weapon's form, unable to think or feel. Castiel stood in front of a cherry blossom, its pink flowers perpetually in bloom no matter the season, and reached out to the bark.

"I'm sorry Anna", Castiel murmured, before letting his hand drop without touching the tree, leaving it unspoiled by his poisonous contact. The orchard had always been there. Before, it couldn't even be called an orchard, just an empty expanse of heaven that made even the highest of the heavenly host feel uneasy. Uncomfortable, simply because it hadn't been explained; it was only after the first angel died they began to realise. The orchard was the resting place of angels. Their grace remained on this hallowed ground, preserved eternally in the most sacred form of all: giving life. The first time Castiel had come here had been purely out of duty to an angel that had fallen in the assault on hell. The trees had been fewer and far between, looking more like a garden than an orchard. With the recent increase of angelic deaths, however, it seemed that the orchard would soon become a forest. Suddenly, the muffled displacement of grass alerted him to a second presence.

"You summoned me then, brother?" Balthazar's smooth drawl broke the silence, drawing Castiel out of his thoughts.

"I thought you weren't going to come". Balthazar chuckled, clearly taking Castiel's comment as an invitation to approach.

"I have to say, I wasn't going to. I haven't been to Heaven since the apocalypse and I find myself quite thoroughly…occupied on Earth. Couldn't you have picked a more cheerful spot to meet? This place has its merits I grant you, but it's not the most uplifting place for chit chat. I'll say this now, dear brother: I'm not getting involved in your bloody war. I quite like my grace where it is, and I don't want it lingering here before it's time." His tone was light, but Castiel could see a faint wariness in Balthazar's eyes. Castiel was not sure whether his misgivings stemmed from their surroundings or from Castiel's summons, but that remained to be seen.

"I...apologise for summoning you so unceremoniously, brother. I'm no leader, but honestly, I don't know who else I can tell." Balthazar did absolutely nothing to hide his curiosity, eyes lighting up with sly mischief. Castiel hesitated slightly, but needed an angel he could be sure wouldn't report everything he said to Raphael.

"Look around; there is a notable absence of a particular manifestation of grace." Balthazar's eyes trailed around the orchard, slightly narrowed in confusion. Castiel sighed and explained.

"There should be one tree that dwarfs the others. An archangel's grace should create a wondrous sight and yet I don't see an archangel's grace here." He watched his brother's eyes widen in sudden realisation.

"Gabriel's grace…it's not here?"

* * *

"Dean!" He groaned , morning filtering through his barely opening eyelids and punching him in the brain like the little bitch it was. Dean opened his eyes fully; the hazy mug of his little brother swam into view. "Good morning sunshine!" The little jerk practically yelled.

"Whatimesit?"

Sam threw some clothes at Dean and huffed, already fully dressed in his favourite shade of plaid.

"An hour past when you should have been up and questioning the widow of our decapitated guy."

_God dammit_! Dean shot out of bed with surprising speed, making his heavy head spin. The 'decapitated guy' in question was one Harvey Longford who had, according to the newspapers, hacked his own head of while shaving. Sam had been throwing himself from case after case lately, ever since Crowley and Cas had rather helpfully told him that his soul had been reaching for the soap in the Cage all this time. Not that Dean objected to saving lives, but now they never had the time to look for solutions for Sam's little 'problem', well big ass problem, and it was blindingly obvious that Sam did this intentionally.

The widow, Mrs 'Call me Victoria' Longford, dabbed delicately at her eyes with a napkin, sniffing almost sequentially. She had very clearly dyed blonde hair and the slight creases of budding wrinkles on her otherwise polished face, exhibiting no real sadness other than the tears welling in her eyes. Dean glanced around her house, unnerved by the pristine middle class perfection he saw. The house was straight from a freaking sitcom about the difficulties of being a rich person surrounded by the peasantry, from the elegantly framed family portraits to the glistening kitchen surfaces. It was all nauseating and worked perfectly with the raging hangover he was nursing to make him really fucking uncomfortable. The widow looked pretty uncomfortable too, her poise stiff and rigid as she sat cross-legged on the undoubtedly uncomfortable metal arm of a white armchair.

"Mrs Longford, erm Victoria, we're really sorry to have to ask this but… did your husband have any enemies who would want to…"

"Hack your husband's head off with a razor blade?" Sam interjected helpfully. Dean shot him a glare before finishing.

"…Harm him?" 'Call me Victoria' looked at him, paling.

"No…of course not! He was…well loved by everyone!" She hiccoughed, glancing frantically between the two of them, because that wasn't suspicious at all. He placed a reassuring hand on her knee.

"I'm sure he was Victoria."

* * *

"How much are you betting that guy was a dick?" Dean grumbled, swallowing his aspirin inconspicuously with the water the waitress brought. Sam sighed as his search of the police database brought up yet more piles of nothing.

"That's what I thought but there's no trace of any proof; no prison sentence, no GBH, no spousal battery, not even a frigging parking ticket. Nothing that could earn him a vengeful spirit or pissed off witch." They'd checked the house thoroughly for the standard indicators of supernatural activity, hex bags, sulphur, EMF, but all had turned up no results. Their harassed looking waitress set Dean's grease filled burger on the table unceremoniously, flicking him a disgusted look as Dean immediately attempted to force the entire thing down his throat. Sam simply sighed and allowed Dean his moment.

"Whaddifs'notsupnatural?" Dean swallowed with great difficulty and tried again. "What if it's not something supernatural?" Sam cast his mind back to the body they'd examined the day before, whose neck had been severed cleanly with the single razor blade found to be the murder weapon.

"I'm pretty sure we can rule his death as unnatural, Dean. The widow definitely knows something; I think we should question her again."

"You think she's just gonna spill all the gory details to the feds?" No, of course she wasn't. She was too good of an actor to do that.

"We'll be…persuasive."

"We're not scaring a confession out of a grieving widow!" Dean's voice was both exasperated and strained, clearly tired of Sam's logical solutions.

"Why not?! It would be a lot faster".

"Because….we're just not! Sam wouldn't!" Ah yes, of course he wouldn't. He would sacrifice efficiency and saving lives for the sake of preserving the privacy of one suspicious widow, Sam ought to have remembered that. But Dean's brother wasn't here right now; he was being tortured in hell.

"As you're so fond of reminding me, Dean, I'm not Sam!" He glared at Dean across the table, half tempted to storm out dramatically, but then again, what would that achieve? He simply went back to his laptop, scanning Harvey's company website.

"Alright, so Harvey was a quality control manager at this electrical firm. We could speak to his co-workers?" Sam suggested, attempting to convey empathy in his expression. Dean merely shrugged and continued to munch his burger, conveying no cooperation in return. Sighing deeply, Sam shut his laptop and swept away from the table.

"Like hell you are questioning anyone alone, Spock." Dean mumbled indignantly, briskly overtaking Sam and exiting the cafe. _That's what I thought; _Sam smirked to himself slightly before following.

It turned out that Dean was right more often than Sam gave him credit for; the moment they mentioned Harvey Longford, eyes were immediately downturned and speech became more careful.

"Well…you don't want to speak ill of the dead." One of Harvey's subordinates had told them. "I mean, it was a horrible way to go and I feel for his wife but…he wasn't a nice guy."

"Care to elaborate on that?" Sam had asked, a touch of contempt edging into his voice, which earned him a harsh poke from Dean. The man had grown even more cautious at the prompt, noticeable fidgeting.

"He…he beat his wife. I mean, everyone knew it happened but nobody ever said anything. He was high up in the company, and one time Mike called the police but nothing ever happened. Like I only ever met her once when we went to a function, but she had these bruises…I never could bring myself to say anything. I know I'm a coward, but I hope she's found some small reprieve from this." After exchanging meaningful glances, they thanked the man for his time and left him, the man still considerably flustered.

Back in the musty motel room, Dean contemplated what appeared to be the elegant spot of mould festering in the upper left hand corner of the room while Sam paced, summarising their case.

"So, the guy is an abusive dick. That's gotta have something to do with it. The only question that remains is…what offed him? We can rule out a vengeful spirit, witches and demons, at least under normal circumstances, actually we can rule out the majority of monsters, the organs were left intact." Dean remained silent throughout Sam's analysis, lounging on a flimsy wooden chair. "Dean!?" Sam barked at him, marvelling slightly at his brother's sudden flailing and narrow escape from falling backwards off the chair. Dean regained his poise ungracefully and turned to regard Sam with apathetic eyes.

"Hmph?" Sam breathed deeply and counted to three, avoiding the creeping desire to punch Dean in the nose rather hard. Dean rubbed his face and sighed, climbing out of the chair, which protested with a cacophony of squeaks and creaks, and began assessing the situation.

"So we figure the wife had something to do with his death, but her alibi was air-tight, her four coffee buddies backing it up. Obviously, something supernatural did her dirty work for her, but why? Out of the kindness of its heart? Things like this don't work that way, they've got to get something in retur- son of a bitch!" His eyes grew wide as realisation dawned on the both of them. Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"She sold her soul."

* * *

This was one hell of a dilemma in Dean's eyes. On the one hand, they had a desperate woman who resorted to desperate measures when all else failed, had killed a guy who clearly had it coming, and needed to be let out of a demon deal. On the other hand (as the giant dick wearing his brother's face kept reminding him), Victoria knew exactly what she was signing up for and it wasn't their responsibility to stop it. Still….the nagging sense of guilt at the back of his head drummed a repetitive 'stop this' into his skull. Surely, it couldn't hurt to make sure a demon deal was the real problem here before leaving. They didn't want some Godzilla-style shit going off after they left. Because, really, that was just their luck.

Baby glided smoothly to rest outside of the disgustingly suburban home and Dean climbed out alone, as the "tin man" was currently sulking in the motel room at Dean's "gentle" persuasion. He prepared himself to scare some poor shaken up woman into oblivion. The doorbell screeched obnoxiously, but it took around five minutes for Victoria to actually come to the door, evidently she had been wishing him away. Because that totally screams complete innocence.

"Yes?" She asked as she opened the door, eyeing Dean suspiciously.

"Hi, Agent Elliot, we spoke earlier and I just have a few follow up questions, can I come in?" She waved him in silently, never taking her wary eyes off his face. After he was seated on her eerily white sofa,_ seriously how does she keep that so clean, _Victoria offered him a drink whilst her eyes warned him that he had better not accept it.

"No, thank you, I'd rather just get down to business." She nodded briskly and perched on the arm of the armchair.

"Yes of course, a-anything." She stammered, eyes now darting to anything except Dean's face.

"I know about your demon deal." Whatever reaction Dean had been expecting, it certainly wasn't the one he got. He could have dealt with false confusion, overacting her denial or any other form of concealment. What he couldn't understand was genuine confusion colouring Victoria's face, frowning as she assumed that she misheard him.

"I'm sorry…what did you say?" _Well, she already assumes I'm crazy, so what the hell?_

"Your demon deal? You know? Selling your soul to take your husband's head off. I get it, he was a dick, but was it really worth an eternity in hell?" He knew he was screwed before the words even left his mouth.

"I don't know who you are or why you are here but you need to leave. First, you imply that I had something to do with my husband's death and second…you rave about demons?! They're not real, you need to get help! Now leave, or I'll call the police." _That could have gone a lot better_, Dean thought to himself as he high-tailed it the fuck outta there, but overall, he was glad of the disastrous conversation. On the bright side, they knew demons weren't involved, however, on the more worrying side, _what the hell killed Harvey Longford? _ Dean slide into his car quickly and sped away as fast as Baby could take him, apologising as her engine protested. He did not stop until he found a large supermarket that could give him the god damn pie he deserved after his stressful, hangover laden day. The neon sign was blindingly bright, reminiscent of the gates of heaven promising him a bountiful pie buffet within, and Dean let his posture relax. Just then, the heavy guitar riff of his cell phone interrupted his bliss.

"Someone had better be having their god damn face ripped off, Sam."

"_Well… not quite. But I think I know what we're dealing with. _

"I'm listening."

"_I figured that if she was summoning a demon, she needed some kind of reference book or the internet because demon summoning ain't exactly your standard knowledge, so I hacked into the server of this occult, new agey-style bookstore that doesn't get a lot of business and guess what? Someone bought a book on Hinduism a day before Mr. Longford had a close shave. Pretty sketchy stuff in this book too, specifically summoning rituals. I asked in store and they reported a woman matching Mrs. Longford's description in there asking about death in religion. We need to confront her, Dean, this is dangerous stuff and we have to stop it." _Dean heavily disliked Sam's emphasis on the 'stopping' part but even he had to admit that pagan gods were a lot more clean-cut than a demon deal. He looked longingly at the supermarket before bringing the cold receiver back to his face.

"Alright, meet me at her house."

* * *

Sam flipped the phone shut in frustration. He knew that Dean wouldn't let him deal with the widow as they should, everything in his tone almost yelled 'no' even as his words agreed. Pagan gods were a whole other league to a simple demon deal, who knows what kind of favours Victoria promised the god in return for a murder. It was highly unlikely that whoever she summoned wanted to kill Harvey, leaving his corpse uneaten, without asking for anything in return. Without even considering his options, Sam hotwired the first car he saw in the motel parking lot, a shabby run-down thing with a suspicious damp smell, and drove in silence to Victoria's house. He found Dean parked inconspicuously at the top of the street, sitting in the impala and gesturing for Sam to get in.

"Took you long enough to get here." Sam stared at Dean in exasperation.

"I didn't have a car and that one smells of piss. Anyway, why are you all the way out here?" Dean looked down guiltily.

"Victoria threw me out of the house when I asked about demons." He mumbled, pouting as he frowned.

"Fantastic, so shall I talk to her alo-"The impala door slammed shut before Sam could even finish his sentence.

"I guess not." Sam murmured to himself before following.

Victoria started in shock as she saw Dean, instantly moving to slam the door before Sam wedged his foot in the doorway.

"I'm sorry, but it is vital that we talk to you!" She made desperate efforts to break Sam's foot, causing him to wince slightly upon each slam as the jolt echoed up his tendons.

"Leave me alone! You're here to talk about more demons or whatever it is you mad people believe in!" Her shrieking was soon to alert the neighbourhood to their efforts to break into an unarmed widow's home so Sam quickly muttered back.

"That was a mistake. We know the truth now; you've been summoning a Hindu god." The pain abated as she opened the door slightly.

"I beg your pardon?" She spoke softly, her voice barely a whisper

"Please let use in, we can talk about this." Dean said gently. The door opened smoothly, revealing Victoria's terrified face, her eyes fearful as she regarded the two of them.

"Co-come in, _quickly_." She stammered, casting a cautious glance around the rest of the street before standing back to let them in. Her familiar house was pristine as ever, the smell of chemical bleach slightly fading in the air and making Sam wondered who had dared get a slight speck of dirt in this pristine palace. Victoria waved a trembling hand at the sofa at took the sleek metal framed armchair herself, smoothing down the pleats in her skirt with a nervous tremor to her every movement. Once they all took their seats, she stared at them both desperately.

"How did you know?" Sam leaned forward; from the corner of his eye he could see Dean's terrified eyes, still distrustful of his every action. He wasn't a monster; he knew what he was doing.

"That doesn't matter, it happened and that's that. What we need to do is stop the consequences." Her face grew even paler. "What consequences? This woman seriously had no idea what she was doing. The stupidity of most people who dabbled in this stuff astounded him, hard to believe that this sobbing mess had killed her husband.

"Well that depends really." He could feel his tone getting colder but he made no effort to make it warmer for her comfort, she was no innocent woman.

"On-on what?" She hiccoughed.

"Which god you summoned. So who was it then? Which almighty god decided to lend a hand to a Christian woman?" Victoria blushed deeply and glanced at the crucifix on the wall with sad eyes before speaking.

"I had no choice, God wasn't listening. So I turned to another." Dean leaned forward then, prompting Victoria to continue. "I summoned the destroyer, Kali."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean stared at Victoria for at least a minute in dumbstruck silence. He felt like he was doing his best goldfish impression, but he simply couldn't help it.

"Kali?" He repeated slowly, just in case by some miracle he had misheard her.

"Yes…my request wasn't what you'd call…benevolent." Victoria replied tentatively, visibly flinching when Sam snorted. Even Dean chuckled slightly under his breath.

"Of course, 'cause decapitation is the ultimate display of God's eternal love." Sam remarked, smirking before Dean elbowed him in the ribs.

"Please just leave me alone, it's done now and you are being rude and unhelpful!" She cried in exasperation, in a way that only a middle class housewife could in the horror of her situation. Dean bit his lip to prevent an outburst of laughter; an outburst of anger seemed just as likely. Did this woman not understand that someone had _died?_ Hell, more people could die,yet the Winchesters' lack of manners seemed to be the worst of her problems. Dean cut Sam off the moment he opened his mouth.

"Listen here, because I'm only gonna say this once. Your life and possibly your soul belong to one scary-ass mother, so you are therefore no longer our greatest priority. Look, we get it, okay? You were desperate and law enforcement wasn't doing shit for you, but you gotta understand that this was a terrible deal. I'm not so sure that we can help you out here; this is no simple demon deal, lady." Tears began to fall thick and fast from Victoria's glistening and guilt racked eyes, making Dean's stomach contract painfully. In an effort to provide a shred of comfort, he placed a hand awkwardly on her shoulder, earning him a confused glare from Sam. Dean let his hand drop and instead endeavoured to cheer her up in the only way he knew.

"Have you still got the book? If we can summon her here, we might be able to deal with her." Victoria brightened considerably, a spark of hope igniting in her dead eyes. Sam simply focused his glare further, fixing Dean with a look of utter defiance. "Could you…err… excuse us for a moment, Victoria?" Dean asked, taking his eyes off Sam for only a fraction of a second to avoid immediate smiting. She nodded and scurried away, leaving only the sound of her heels echoing off the laminate flooring to add a harsh sound to Sam's insistent glare. The moment the sound faded away, Sam jumped up from the sofa and exploded.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?! HAS A YEAR AWAY FROM HUNTING STOPPED YOU FROM HAVING A SINGLE RATIONAL THOUGHT? THIS GODESS IS FULLY CAPABLE OF RIPPING OUR GUTS OUT AND STEWING THEM, AND YOU WANT FACE TIME?" Dean stayed quiet, leaning back slightly to avoid the full force of Sam's outburst.

"Hey, you're the super-efficient, super-reckless hunter with no soul or fear. I thought you'd like this plan?" Sam narrowed his eyes coldly, evidently using all of the non-verbal intimidation tactics in his arsenal, before replying.

"Self-preservation, Dean." Dean responded with a simple shrug and the most shit-eating grin he could muster to really piss Sam off, then held his breath, waiting as his brother's shell considered him and praying for an outcome that allowed him to keep his faculties. After a long and uncomfortable pause, Sam sat back down in silence just as Victoria returned clutching a small, black, leather-bound tome that didn't look dark or dangerous at all.

"So this is the Hindu book of death and destruction?" Sam asked helpfully. Victoria nodded curtly to him, but handed Dean the book.

"We'll take this with us and we'll try to get you out of this, okay? If you need anything, call this number." Dean told her, putting the book down momentarily to write the number on her hand.

Victoria looked considerably happier by the time she waved them off, clearly a lot more hopeful than Dean, who was now experiencing the death glare of his 6'4" brother with no boundaries, and a serious case of cold feet as he drove back to their motel to investigate the summoning of a violent goddess they saved once on an exceptional occasion. What could possibly go wrong here? Sam's sour mood still radiated from him like stifling, stale air as they got into the motel room. The door swung shut with a disturbing rattle and bounced open again almost immediately, leading to a good 15 minute struggle between Dean and the door that wouldn't fucking close. When the latch finally caught, Dean apprehensively turned to face Sam who stood holding the book of regret.

"So are we gonna talk about this or are you gonna hit me?" Dean snatched the book out of the air just before it made impact with his face. Wrinkling his nose slightly to dissipate the tickling sensation from the dust particles currently inhabiting his nostrils, Dean flipped through the wrinkled pages until he found a very morbid looking page infested with symbols and the most delightful artwork of severed heads. A tentative stroke of one symbol made Dean's stomach churn uncontrollably.

"These are written in blood." Dean felt even sicker when Sam seemed wholly unsurprised.

"Dean, we hunt monsters for a living, please don't say you're freaked by a bit of blood."

"Touché. Well, it's time to beam this bitch down. Which I guess you're scarily okay with." Sam shrugged and sat on the bed, which protested with an unnerving creak.

"Well we've killed pagans before; I guess it's just another monster. Let's just summon her and get it over with." A smug grin fought its way onto Dean's features as he turned away to avoid any immediate violence on his soulless brother's part. It turned out that the summoning ritual was morally complex at best (downright disgusting at worst), requiring ingredients that turned Dean's stomach and reminded him of just how much he hated pagan gods.

"We are not using a pregnant woman's skull, this ritual can crawl straight back into _Saw _or wherever the hell it came from" Sam regarded him for a moment, his mouth pressed into a fixed line as though deep in thought. Deep in thought was never a good sign with this particular overgrown Vulcan. When he finally spoke, his tone was much softer than Dean had come to expect, probably an attempt to persuade Dean into some horrible idea.

"What else can we do? This is the summoning ritual." Sudden realisation hit Dean like an angel's punch to the jaw.

"No it's not." He sang smugly, "Victoria summoned Kali, and I seriously doubt she had a pregnant woman's skull on hand." Samatron 3000 was probably disappointed that he couldn't hack into some poor knocked up chick like the evil son of a bitch he was, but Dean could rest assured that he was going to weasel the truth out of Victoria. He was tired of lies.

* * *

_Sam should probably claim one of these seats permanently_, he thought to himself as he sat on the familiarly immaculate couch. He'd probably sat on this couch more than the musty motel bed and, to be completely honest, it was more comfortable, albeit a little stiff. The whole scene before him seemed drawn from memory, more identical than even déjà vu could appear, with Victoria perched once again on the metal arm of a white chair while Dean and Sam took the couch. Though the tension wrought in Dean's muscles and the minute tremblings of a woman who had obviously noticed betrayed the meeting as entirely disparate. Sam flexed his fingers contentedly, waiting for a violent eruption from Dean or any other indication that Sam could get the truth they needed without irritating repercussions from Dean. Judging from the heavy silence broken only by the older brother's occasional teeth grinding, Dean had finally had enough of her lies.

"So… what is this about?" Victoria was the first to speak; her voice seemed higher in pitch every time Sam saw her, although he could hardly judge her for being nervous under the death stare of his older brother. Dean leaned forward while Sam simply smirked as he waiting for hell to unfold. He was not disappointed.

"Cut the crap, Victoria! You've done nothing but lie straight to our faces from the moment we said hello. Why did you give us this book when you never even used it?" The effect of Dean's words was instantaneous. Victoria's trembling ceased, the quivering pools in her eyes dried and Victoria, the terrified and desperate woman terrorised by her husband, slipped away as rapidly and seamlessly as a mask falling from her face. Shoulders stiffening as she drew herself up, the new and much more interesting Victoria smirked.

"I was wondering when you'd catch my little red herring." She drawled, her voice cold and absent of all traces of emotion. Sam mirrored her smirk with smug satisfaction; wheedling answers out of her now would be all too enjoyable. Dean seemed less than thrilled with the developments, standing slowly as his hand twitched above where Sam knew his favourite gun was concealed. Any surprise he may have been feeling was gone, and Sam simply waited in self-satisfaction for his turn.

"I'm tired of games. Your whole 'defend me' act was convincing, I'll grant you. It's over now. What are you, really?" Dean asked, his voice soft and steady. Sam knew that he was probably a second away from shooting her. Victoria was unperturbed, merely slipping off the arm to settle back in the stiff chair.

"Oh sweetie, sorry to be a disappointment, but I'm human. Just a better version of myself. Victoria 2.0." Her sneer was far too sweet, and Sam thought that the smell of bleach in her house likely mimicked her soul. Her _soul? _Everything snapped into place like an elastic band. Sam rose slowly, stepping beside Dean to loom over Victoria.

"So when you sold your soul to Kali, how long did she give you?" He asked, conjuring just enough sweetness to lace his voice with it. For what was likely the first time, genuine confusion coloured her features.

"How…long?" She replied, cocking her head slightly. The resemblance to Castiel was briefly blinding. With every word she spoke, Sam's confidence grew.

"Until your soul becomes Kali's, the hard way." There was no reply; Dean's brow furrowed in confusion as he turned to stare at Sam. "Or maybe it already is hers. Pagans don't work the same way as demons, right? What's to stop her ripping your soul right out and leaving you behind?" Eyes widening comically, Dean fixed Victoria with an incredulous stare.

"So…you're soulless?! That explains the whole bitchy attitude disorder, but what's with the wild goose chase? If we find Kali, you can have your soul back and your husband stays dead."

"I don't want that decrepit thing back" Victoria spat "it made me weak. Kali helped me, she made me strong. I was such a pitiful thing…unable to stand up to that brute; now he's gone and I am the most alive I have ever been! Then you two turned up and started sniffing around. Kali came to me, told me to keep you off her trail until she could deal with you." Sam tensed, fingering the hilt of Ruby's knife as he scanned the room suspiciously for any evidence that Kali could be stalking them.

"Then why are you spilling your guts now?" Dean inquired, but Sam already knew the answer.

"She's done avoiding you now." A flash of light obscured Sam's vision as he was thrown into a china cabinet, feeling glass slice through his flannel and into his back; all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut as it rained sharp shards. Shaking off the debris, Sam rose to see a furious Kali standing in the middle of a decimated living room. Victoria was nowhere to be found.

"I never wanted it to come to this, you did save my life." Fire swallowed her arms and was reflected in her golden breastplate, it seemed as if her entire being was consumed by fiery fury. For the first time since hell, fear coursed through Sam's very veins. Kali's skin glowed in the firelight in a blue sheen as she approached him and Dean, who was worryingly still beside him. Sam glanced around for any form of weapon, resorting to a slightly large shard of glass he found embedded in his back. He swung it in a fruitless display of threat before she flung him aside with a flick of her wrist. The wind was knocked out of his lungs as he hit the back wall and he struggled to get back on his feet. Gasping for air, Sam braced himself for the burn that was sure to come. Instead, a resounding crash that shattered the very foundations of the suburban home rang in his ears. Before him, Castiel stood tense in a battle crouch, his angel blade glinting in the flames. His trenchcoat flared out behind him like tail feathers as he launched the blade with deadly precision into Kali's shoulder. She hissed in pain just as Castiel noticed Sam on the floor and frowned in confusion, despite the carnage around him.

"Sam? What are you…?" He trailed off as he noticed Dean's motionless form. He always did have a hard time focusing on anything else. Flames singed Castiel's chest as Kali recovered with a vengeance and a handful of fire.

"Now I have you, ange-" Kali was cut off abruptly by the sudden appearance and consequential disappearance of Balthazar, who whisked her off to god-knows-where. Castiel hastily tapped Dean's forehead and disappeared, sparing Sam no parting glance. Sam stared at the spot previously occupied by a pissed of Goddess and a smarmy angel until a sharp intake of breath beside him drew his attention and Dean offered his eloquent and omniscient view of the situation.

"What the fuck just happened?


	3. Chapter 3

Dark eyes fixed Castiel in a resolute stare that would surely pervade most men with unequivocal fear. However, Castiel was not most men. The menacing glare of a goddess would not prevent him from finding his lost brother. After all the death and carnage dragging his home into barren wreckage, he needed one flash of hope that Gabriel could still be alive. The only archangel to reject the plan of an absent father could be the only real family he has left in heaven and Castiel had already lost him twice. Kali was not going to let him lose Gabriel a third time. A raw, guttural snarl escaped Kali's lips as Balthazar opened a thin line along her wrist, letting the blood flow against her sapphire skin in a stomach-churning contrast. Castiel struggled to watch the display, regret ever rising throughout his body, but he knew that this was the nature of necessity and, though regrettable, the torture was the only way he knew to find Gabriel. There was no summoning ritual in the seraph's knowledge and Gabriel's vessel was missing, presumably because it was in use. That left simple praying, which had already been attempted to no avail, or using the only lead they had.

"Where's your boyfriend, Kali?" Balthazar asked curtly and he traced the vein on her wrist with the blade. Balthazar didn't enjoy torture, Castiel knew, but he could play the part as well as any angel he'd met with his casual flirtation and soft voice. The quirk of Balthazar's lips flickered out of existence when Kali chose to answer the question by spitting what Castiel assumed to be venom into Balthazar's face. After all, the enchanted chains wouldn't really allow for much else.

"Go to hell." Kali hissed, somehow managing to fill her words with as much venom as her saliva. Balthazar's features twitched slightly in apparent irritation but quickly returned to a calm smile.

"No thank you sweetheart, once was quite enough. That assault on hell was nasty, wasn't it Cassie?" He paused to raise his eyebrows at Castiel, who inclined his head in agreement, before turning back to Kali. "I save his delicate arse from Alistair only to have him save the precious damsel and take all the glory. It did seem an awful lot of trouble just to save one pathetic-"

"Balthazar." Castiel growled a warning before he could continue. He understood Balthazar's misgivings when it came to the Winchesters but he would not allow him to insult Dean. He had many flaws but neither man nor angel could deny his importance in both the apocalypse and averting it. His thought process was interrupted by the man himself, screaming a threatening prayer into the empty air.

"Hey, Cas! You'd better get your winged ass down here because you got some explaining to do or so help me I will drag it down here myself!". Castiel winced at the ethereal ringing in his mind, the seventh prayer he'd heard this evening.

"Is the ape bothering you again?" Castiel looked up to see Balthazar's eyes fixed on him, completely ignoring the fuming goddess behind him who took her opportunity to voice her own opinion.

"Are you two going to commence with inflicting mediocre pain or are you going to copulate? I have to say this is the most unfocused torture session I've ever endured. Do you want to find your brother or not?" Castiel ignored the personal slight and instead fixated on the latter half of her sentence. If he could just coax information out of her without torture, he would be much better served. After all, the goddess of destruction had to have a rather high pain threshold.

"Do you know his whereabouts or not?" Kali's bloodstained lips twisted into a complacent smirk, one that tantalisingly hinted at knowledge Castiel was so desperate to achieve. He was tired of games and he needed his brother home, the only being more powerful than Raphael he could call on. Castiel knew that calling on Gabriel for his own civil war was selfish, truly, but he had no other options. If he could do this then he had no need of Crowley or purgatory. Even daring to hope that Raphael would listen to another archangel without violence was preferable to deceiving all those who believed in him, futile as it may be.

"His whereabouts? No, of course not. The last I saw of him was shortly after your so-called apocalypse when he terminated our involvement." Kali's account was interrupted by a snort of laughter from Balthazar.

"I'm sorry, honey, I really am but…you were dumped by Gabriel?!" He managed to choke out before creasing up again. Kali's eyes twitched slightly in irritation but her face remained smooth and passive as she contemplated Balthazar's form before continuing.

"He told me that he was going into hiding, however he refused to enlighten me as to how he survived his confrontation with Lucifer. It was my belief that he had perished. No great loss, it has to be said." Balthazar took a moment to whisper to Castiel.

"Sounds like somebody is a little bitter." His grin faltered as Castiel glared. Now was not the time for humour, he needed this investigation over quickly before Raphael could figure out his plan. It seemed as if this interrogation was getting him nowhere.

"So, you know nothing about Gabriel's movements?" He asked, forcing the anger down to keep his voice impassive.

"I know that you'll never find him. He doesn't _want _to be found, you pathetic winged children. Gabriel made that quite clear, he's done with all of your tantrums and spats. Forget him and move on." Kali replied, with a hint of satisfaction as she regarded the angels. Castiel felt his hope drain away like the grace of a dying brother.

"Balthazar." He stated, conveying both command and request in one simple name. Clearly understanding, his comrade stepped closer to Kali with a ready blade.

"Right you are Cassie, my sincerest apologies Destroyer." Castiel turned away with remorse, feeling Kali's accusing stare flaying his form.

"You are a coward, angel. You cannot bear to look those you execute in the eye or even have the decency to perform the act. Showing such weakness guarantees only one thing; you will fail in all that you endeavour and my only regret is that I will not be there to see it. I bought souls in the hope of protection from your tyranny but I no longer seek it." Castiel could hear the goddess, the monster, calling him clear as a prayer but still, he could not look as her accusations ceased suddenly, with neither scream nor cry.

Dean stared resolutely up at the starless night sky in the salvage yard, the moon struggling to shine through the thick grey clouds imprisoning all traces of light. His throat burned with every slight movement or swallow, hoarse from yelling nonsense at clouds all damn night. Sam and Bobby were inside, most likely discussing his sanity or his blind faith but there was no dragging him inside. If there was one thing Dean prided himself on, it was his determination; or his stubbornness if you asked anyone else. He'd tried bargaining, threatening, pleading and requesting politely but all had been met with a whole heap of nothing (except for one occasion where a rustle of leaves got his hopes up and Dean spent 10 minutes calling dead plant matter a variety of colourful names). Feeling tired, annoyed, sore and hoarse, he decided to try one last time.

"Cas? Please man, I just want to understand." His throat burned, raw and demanding as his voice croaked but the hunter started to continue. Or at least, he would have had he not have been rudely interrupted by the familiar beating of wings.

"Hello, Dea-"

"Took you long enough." Dean rasped, regarding the slightly bedraggled looking angel. Castiel narrowed his eyes slightly at the interruption but stepped forward quietly to gently brush Dean's throat. The moment the tingle registered on Dean's skin he jumped away, startled.

"What the hell man?!" He yelled in shock until he realised that the burning sensation had completely disappeared. Cas looked slightly hurt by his sudden reaction and Dean hurried to remedy the situation. "I mean, thanks for healing me but seriously, a little warning next time?" Cas inclined his head in understanding.

"My apologies." Regarding his friend with slowly diminishing suspicion, Dean cautiously questioned Cas.

"What was that thing with Kali about yesterday? I heard from Sam that you and your smarmy dickbag friend turned up and took her with you. Now I know you're fighting your little pissing match with the douchiest angel in the garrison so why the hell do you have time to press gang goddesses? Forcefully, if I might add." Cas continued his habit of staring relentlessly without even blinking throughout Dean's speech. It makes it very hard to focus when you're being x-rayed by pools of holy light. Attempting to read the expression in the angel's eyes was no mean feat but Dean still tried, surveying his features carefully before Castiel replied.

"Gabriel is alive." He said gravely, possibly betraying a hint of regret Dean thought, before glancing at Bobby's house briefly. Dean's brain took a moment to restart itself as he pondered the dilemma and then realised that he felt mostly apathetic on the whole. What does it matter that their kinda once enemy turned kinda once saviour was alive? Sure, it was impressive that he actually _was _alive but on the whole, he had bigger fish to fry.

"So the little shit got out then, good for him." Cas cocked his head in confusion.

"You don't seem surprised." As always, Cas won the prize for pointing out the obvious. Dean supposed that it was his older brother and, given that his own brother had always undertaken a surprising resurrection this year, he could afford some empathy for the man. He could understand why Cas was trying so desperately to find him, he just wished that he could help with Sam's soul with equal determination. He and Sam had been more like family to Cas in the past years than the entire heavenly host of dicks so why was Cas so preoccupied with looking for one estranged archan-_son of a bitch! _Dean clapped his hand to his forehead, marvelling at his own stupidity.

"Dean?" Cas inquired, looking concerned for Dean's sanity as always. An archangel that doesn't want the entire planet is roast is _alive! _One of the most powerful beings on the planet, why didn't he think of this before? Dean stepped closer to Cas, probably much too close, but he was too elated to care.

"Can archangels get into Lucifer's time out box? Like without being trapped there eternally?" Cas's eyes settled on the hand Dean unintentionally placed on is shoulder and his entire face seemed to freeze, well more so than usual. Removing his hand to prevent flustering Cas further, Dean repeated his question.

"I suppose…they could if they were not trapped there initially. Do you think that Gabriel would bring Sam's soul back?"

"That's exactly what I think Cas so I'm gonna help you find the bastard. I know you've got shit to do upstairs so… y'know, you can do that. I've got this." The corners of Cas's mouth lifted slightly in his funny little way of a smile and Dean could have sworn he heard the faint rumbling of a chuckle as Cas dropped his head in amusement.

"What?" Dean asked, smiling in spite of himself. Lifting his head, Cas regarded him for a moment.

"You." He said, almost fondly, before disappearing in a whirl of feathers.

"Do you reckon he's done having a religious experience or what?" Bobby huffed, rummaging through a pile of mouldy pages Sam could have sworn he'd been through twenty times already. Peering through the window discreetly, Sam attempted to seek out Dean's silhouette which had been his source of entertainment for the night as it made various gestures and dances at the non-responsive sky; however, Dean was no longer visible to him.

"No clue, Bobby. I think he might have given up." No sooner had the words left Sam's mouth when Dean burst through the door in annoyingly high spirits. Bobby rolled his eyes and collected the pages that had flown off the desk from the displacement of air while Dean proceeded to grab a beer from the kitchen.

"I think I've found a way to give the tin man a heart." He sang, taking a swig of his beer. Cold horror swirled around the vortexes of Sam's mind.

"What, for real?" He asked tentatively, daring to hope that Dean was either drunk or teasing. Sadly, Dean's smile only grew wider.

"Yup, we have a martyr that doesn't fully understand the concept." Sam raised his eyebrows, prompting Dean to explain. "Gabriel is alive. Somehow he gave Lucifer the slip and has been hiding out ever since." A steady thrum of panic stirred in Sam's heart and mind as he remembered Crowley's warning. What this soul could do to him wasn't worth thinking about.

"And…can he restore my soul?" He enquired cautiously, trying to hide his intentions from Dean.

"Cas certainly thinks so. So we're gonna find him and make you a real boy again, Pinocchio." Forcing a smile on his face, Sam searched desperately for deterrence.

"How do we even know he's going to pull through? He couldn't even sacrifice himself right and then hid for a year while heaven is falling to pieces! Call me nuts but when the damn trickster is your only option for salvation, you have to consider whether salvation is really worth it? And have you even considered what Crowley said? What _Cas _said? I'll be a drooling mess if he crams that thing back into me and that's even if he does!" The light in Dean's face faded, his features hardening and becoming hostile in an instant.

"Wow Sam, tell us what you really think. He helped us stop the apocalypse." Sam huffed in amusement.

"Yeah, safe and sound from his hiding place! You want to trust that coward with going into Lucifer's cage? No way will he do it." Grabbing his jacket, Sam stormed over to the door. "I need some air." He let it slam behind him and headed out into the cold night air.

Sparks flew as Sam struck a match hastily, dropping it into the concoction of herbs before him. Heat erupted in his face as the bowl set alight, calling out across the Earth and heavens. There was only one angel that could make _a flutter of wings _sound sarcastic.

"Why here's one for the list of dumbest things ever. Summon the angel who wants to kill you." Balthazar's unimpressed tones echoed slightly in the derelict warehouse. Ignoring the urge to fill his face with holy oil, Sam kept his voice steady as he replied.

"Desperate times. I need your help, Balthazar." He knew already how Balthazar would take his request but he had no other options; he had to stop Dean from returning his soul. Both sanity and life were at stake. Balthazar huffed as he swaggered towards Sam.

"Interesting...Since last time we met, you wanted to -what was it? Oh, yes, yes -fry my wings extra crispy." A typical answer, as expected. Still, Sam persisted.

"That was a misunderstanding! I need some angelic advice and Cas won't help me." Balthazar's eyebrows quirked upwards in mild curiosity.

"Oh, do continue." He prompted, waving his hand forward in a noncommittal gesture.

"I need to know if there's a spell or a weapon, anything that can keep a soul out – forever."


End file.
